Interludes II
by jane0904
Summary: A short series of vignettes before the next multi-parter, complete in themselves and featuring all of the crew. Serenity is between planets, and everyone on board finds ways to pass the time. Read, enjoy, review!
1. Talking

"They're fighting."

"Mmn."

"Simon."

"What?"

"I said they're fighting."

He looked up from his study of the slide. "Who?"

"Mal and Frey." Kaylee was sitting on the edge of the medbed, swinging her legs.

"I'm sure it's nothing." He smiled briefly and went back to his work.

"She doesn't like it when they fight."

"Who? Jesse?"

"Well, no, she don't either, but I meant Serenity."

"Serenity?" There, just on the edge of the specimen …

"She gets all … cranky."

"Cranky?"

"Are you just gonna repeat everything I say until I go away and make you sleep on the couch tonight?"

Okay, that slightly petulant tone of voice got his attention. He knew he wasn't going to get any more work done, at least not until Kaylee had had her say. He internalised the sigh and turned back to his wife. "_Bao bei_, Serenity's metal. She can't get cranky."

"Course she can. S'why she's thrown a G-clamp."

He smiled slightly. "Then shouldn't you be fixing her?"

"I did. Least, as far as I can. Needs a new one." She swung her legs a bit more, looking very like her eldest daughter.

"And you don't have a spare?" Simon's smile grew. "With all the stuff you bought from Leo on Jericho, and I know you brought bit and pieces back from the Empress … you don't have a … what was it, a G-ring?"

"G-clamp. And no. They don't exactly break too often, so it ain't worth keeping one. I can only figure the EMP put a strain on it, and what Hank was doing was the last straw."

"Does Mal know?"

"Yeah."

"That's not why he and Frey are arguing, is it?"

"No. That's kinda more general."

"Ah."

"Ah … what?"

"Nothing. Just … ah."

"If you're suggesting it's her time of the month, I think maybe she'd disagree. You know we all … you know."

Simon tried to hide the tilt to his lips. Kaylee was one of the most open, honest people he'd ever met, but talking about _women's things_ still sometimes made her come over shy. "It's natural," he explained. "Women in a close community often synchronise."

"Mmn." She lifted her feet so she could study her toes, poking out of the sandals she was wearing. She wriggled them, making a mental note to reapply the pink polish. "But it ain't that. I think it's just …" She stopped.

"Just what?"

"You know. Mal being Mal, Frey being Frey."

"You mean he left his socks on the table again?"

"Maybe. Or she's anxious about something or other and it's coming out that way."

"Anxious? What about?"

"No idea. I ain't a mind reader."

Simon glanced involuntarily out of the infirmary doorway towards the room they called Eden across the way, where River was weeding her garden and Caleb was making mud pies. "Does River …"

"I ain't asked. But then, she's not said either."

"Then I don't think it's anything to worry about."

"Oh, I ain't worried."

"Then … what?"

Kaylee shrugged. "Not sure. But I know she gets like this sometimes, more so after seeing Inara."

Simon was confused. "But they're friends."

"More than friends, according to River. Sisters, she says. But …" Her voice trailed away.

"It's probably just her subconscious," Simon suggested. "Remembering how it used to be."

She reached out and took his hand, pulling him closer. "Good job they got over it then," Kaylee said, smiling up at him. "'Sides, people argue. Over nothing."

Simon found himself nodding. He well remembered the last time he and Kaylee had done exactly that, and for the life of him he still couldn't tell how it had started, what he'd done to make her so pissed off, or even if there was anything at all. "It's proximity."

"I guess."

"You know they're going to make up, don't you?" Simon asked, looking closely into Kaylee's eyes.

"Oh, course I do. It ain't like either of 'em to hold onto it, not now."

"Are you saying it used to be?"

"With the Cap, for sure. Before Miranda. You musta noticed."

In all honesty he hadn't. All his spare time had been spent trying to find a cure, or at least some form of medication that would enable his sister to lead a normal life. It had taken Reavers, blood and Jayne to get her even part of the way there. "Um …"

"Anyhow, now they fight, get it outta their systems. So I ain't worried."

She smiled at him, enough so that he dared to say, "Kaylee, as much as I love having company whilst I'm trying to work, why _are_ you here?"

"Work? You're staring at somethin'!"

"That is work."

"If'n I stare at something, the Cap tells me to find something better to do."

"And what do you tell him?"

"That he's Captain, I'm the mechanic, and I know what I'm doing."

"So do I."

She wasn't phased. "So what is it?"

He gave in. "I'm still trying to find out a way to cure that rash Jayne picked up on Lazarus when we took Inara home."

"That?" she scoffed. "Aw, hell, I can do that."

"You can? How?" A thought occurred to him. "It doesn't involve liberal application of engine grease, does it?"

"Nope. And that was only the once." She grinned. "It worked, though, didn't it?"

"Kaylee, I smelled like … like Serenity! For days!"

"That ain't a bad thing. And you shouldn't'a burned your backside without making sure you'd got salve on board."

"We'd run out. And that wasn't exactly my fault."

Her grin widened, and her eyes danced. "Oh, I recall you having something to do with it."

He tried to bury the memory of accidentally sitting on a very hot part of the engine at exactly the wrong moment, then having to deal with the rest of the crew hurrying to his aid after he screamed and woke them all up, including the children. He'd almost considered leaving the Firefly from sheer embarrassment. "Anyway," he said quickly. "About Jayne's rash …"

"I'll wave my Ma. She's sure to have something in her recipe book that'd do." She laughed. "You shoulda seen it when Pete got into that patch of poisonous lava leaves. She had him plastered in some kinda green goo for days."

"Lava leaves?"

"'Cause they burn like hell. He screamed louder'n you did."

"Then … I'd be grateful if you could talk to your mother."

"Sure. I'll do it soon as I'm through annoying you."

"Is that it? You're bored?"

"The kids are in lessons. David Gabriel's taking a nap, Mal's talking to Zoe about the next job while Hank flies … and there ain't much I need to do 'til we get to Wayborn and I can go get that part." She swung her legs again. "So I thought I'd come see my favourite husband."

"Your _only_ husband, I hope." He moved closer still, leaning on the medbed with one hand, his thighs between hers.

"Apart from Roger on Ibis. And then there's Clayton on Jiangyin. And –" She couldn't say anything more on account of Simon having wrapped his arm around her and pressed his lips to hers. Instead she hummed happily.

"What are you doing?" River's voice from the doorway, a mixture of curiosity and mischief.

"What does it look like?" Simon asked, barely disengaging his mouth. "We're talking."

"Jayne and I talk like that. When he's not scratching."

Simon turned his head enough to look at his sister. "You need to stop him doing that. It might scar."

"I tried tying him up last night. But he seemed to enjoy it."

He rolled his eyes. "River …"

"Or I could cut off his hands, but I don't think –"

"River!"

She looked innocent. "What?"

"Go away."

"Why?"

"Because we're busy."

"Busy … talking."

He sighed. "Did you want something?"

"No."

"Then don't you have something else to do?" Simon wasn't going to give up on enjoying some time with his wife, not now he'd got used to the idea.

"I've weeded the containers. There are more strawberries ripening."

"Mmmn." Kaylee was buzzing, her vibrations transferring to Simon through her legs, and he almost moaned, particularly as she licked her lips as she said, "Strawberries."

"What about Caleb? Shouldn't you be watching him?" Simon asked, trying to exercise some sort of control over certain areas of his body.

River tapped her temple. "I am."

Simon closed his eyes, hoping that, when he opened them again, his sister might have disappeared. Unfortunately, it wasn't to be. "Oh."

"Still here," she added. "And she's forgiven him." She dusted tiny grains of earth from her hands.

"Who, honey?" Kaylee asked. "Frey?"

The young psychic nodded. "They're … talking."

"Is she okay? Or was it something Mal did?"

River shook her head. "Not Mal. Her psyche itches."

Simon glanced at Kaylee, who looked none the wiser. "Sorry?"

"Why, have you done something?"

"_Mei-mei…_"

"It's okay, Simon," Kaylee said, squeezing him around the waist. "She's teasing."

"I know," he sighed.

His sister smiled. "Sometimes Freya's mind itches – stray thoughts scratch it and it has to heal."

"I know I'm going to be sorry I asked, but thoughts of what?"

"From outside." She indicated the hull. "People. Events. Past , present and future …" She focussed on the two people in front of her again. "And Mal left his socks on the table."

Kaylee giggled. "Told you."

"No, I said …" He stopped. Faced with two women like his sister and wife, he just knew he wasn't going to win. "But Frey's okay now?"

"Mmn. Mal is helping. He's licking her –"

"Just stop. Right there." In an effort to regain some kind of mastery, he added, "And tell Jayne to come and see me. If he's scratching I can give him another shot of antihistamine."

River nodded. "I'll … talk … to him." She smiled knowingly, the look in her eyes all woman, not child.

"_Mei-mei_, please."

She laughed. "Boob."

"Brat."

"I know." Suddenly she lifted her head. "I have to go. Caleb is eating one of his mud pies." She ran across the common area into her garden, her feet barely touching the deck.

"My sister …" Simon said quietly, then his breath hitched as he realised Kaylee had grabbed his ass in one hand and was gently squeezing. "Um …"

"You know, I'm still bored," she said conversationally, her cheeks beginning to flush.

"Really?" He looked down into her eyes, soft and full of love.

"Mmn. Want to try … talking … me out of it?"

He held up a hand. "Stay right there." Hurrying to the door he slid the two halves closed, locking it securely. Turning, he leaned on it for a moment, watching his wife as she slid back on the medbed, bringing one leg over so she could straddle it. He smiled. "Now, where were we?" he asked.

She grinned as he crossed the short distance back to her, more than ready to continue their conversation.


	2. Sparring

Thump. Thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump. Thump.

Mal listened to the broken rhythm as he walked along the corridor, doing up his shirt but leaving his suspenders hanging. Zoe and Hank's hatch was closed, which wasn't surprising, given the ship time. Everyone had been in bed for more than three hours, as he had until ten minutes since, when he'd woken and found himself on his own. He'd waited, but Freya hadn't come back, so he got up, pushing his feet into cold boots and tugging on the clothing that had been abandoned on the chair.

He yawned and scratched his head, leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, but the galley was dark, unoccupied, and beyond he could see the red-lit engine room was empty too. As it should be, since Kaylee and Simon were probably wrapped up together down in the lower crew quarters. He grimaced as his mind skittered away from the possibility of something else they might be doing.

Still, that didn't explain the noise. Turning away, he headed for the cargo bay.

Ah.

Some time back, when they were in the middle of nowhere without the sniff of a job or anyplace to go, Jayne had hung a makeshift punching bag from under one of the catwalks, taking out some of his frustrations on the old leather rather than shooting up the ship, which Mal for one had been glad about. Things had improved, and now there was coin chinking in their pockets, but Jayne had left the bag hanging, and most of the crew did occasional sessions on it. Admittedly, River made it look like she was performing some sort of lethal dance with it, while Hank only did enough to keep from getting soft around the middle again, but the sound of fists pounding wasn't unknown.

Except in the middle of the night.

He watched Freya, her shoulders hunched slightly, hands wrapped in tape, as she threw punch after punch, left hook, right hook, then a short sequence that would have had an opponent first winded, then aching, and finally down on the ground, holding his belly in outright pain.

Mal smiled. He had to admit there was something downright erotic about the whole thing. He couldn't put his finger on it, but seeing the woman who could make him moan ... alright, make him _scream_ into his pillow in bed to avoid waking the rest of the ship, beating hell out of a swinging bag of sawdust, had him contemplating lewd thoughts of sweat on warmed skin, of tattoos flaming down supple spines, of ...

He stopped, suddenly aware things weren't quite right. Something had woken her up, the same something that had made her get up and dress in a soft pair of pants and sleeveless t-shirt, and punch away at the bag until her side of the bed was cold.

Thump. Thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump ... She paused, resting her forehead on the leather, and Mal took his chance.

"Now, what's my wonderful _ai ren_ doing beating the crap outta that old thing?" he asked, stepping down the metal staircase.

She looked up and smiled. "Did I wake you? Sorry."

"Don't be. Although I might make an exception since you left our bed. And me."

"I couldn't sleep."

He reached the bay floor. "Really? 'Cause I seem to recall you actually snoring before I drifted off myself."

"I don't snore."

"Cute little snuffly noises I'd'a thought more appropriate to Kaylee." He grinned, crossing to the weight benches and sitting down on his son's.

Freya pulled a towel down from where it hung over the edge of the catwalk and wiped her face. "I do not snore."

"Okay. Musta been me, then." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "So what stopped you getting your beauty sleep then? Not that you need it, a'course, but I was just wondering."

She dropped the towel to the deck and turned back to the bag. "Nothing. Just ... nothing."

"Frey, I'm not psychic, but I know my wife. Wanna try that again?"

She punched twice. Thump. Thump. Left then right. "Dreams," she said finally.

Dreams. That explained it. Everyone on board had those kind of dreams once in a while, himself included. His tended towards Serenity Valley, and later with Miranda, visions of Wash skewered through the chest and asking through a mouth full of blood why he hadn't been saved – no, not that. Too close to the bone. But the fact was Freya hardly ever talked about hers at all. Still, maybe this time. "Are you going to enlighten me?"

She looked at him over her shoulder. "Do I have to?"

"Might help. You know, a trouble shared ..." He moved along the bench, leaving a gap which he patted.

"Mal ..."

"Come on."

She sighed heavily, but walked slowly to him, lowering herself down. "Mal, it was just a bad dream."

He pressed against her, feeling her warmth through his pants leg. "Frey, if you really don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But I'm here for you. You know that."

"I know." She nodded, her lips lifting a little. "And I wish I could tell you, but ..."

"Okay." He put his hand on her thigh. "It's okay, Frey."

"No, I mean it, I wish I could, but they're ..." She shook her head. "Muddled. Crazy. Bits and pieces that don't make any sense, except they make me feel ... broken. Angry."

"You were dreaming about the past?"

"Yes."

Okay. Things were a little clearer now. At suppertime Kaylee had been talking about her childhood, back on Phoros, and that had set the rest of the crew to reminiscing. Hank had mentioned being made to dress up as an angel in his elementary school play, and when everyone had stopped laughing Mal had kept it going by talking about some of the exploits he and Lyle Bradcombe had gotten into trouble over.

"It's nice to hear you talk about when you were a kid, Cap'n," Kaylee had said, smiling widely. "You don't often."

And the truth was, Mal didn't really know why he was doing so sitting at the table, except that it seemed right. But considering back on it, maybe Freya hadn't been laughing as hard as the rest.

"It got you thinking, didn't it?" he hazarded now.

She nodded. "Not so much about my childhood, or ... or the Academy, but later."

"The war?"

"After."

This he understood. The day they were let out of the camps, given a hundred credits each and told to get back to the Rim where they belonged, Freya vanished. He and Zoe had been talking, not really sure what they wanted to do beyond go and crawl into a bottle for a month, then he'd turned around and she was gone. It was a year before they saw her again, and she'd never been very forthcoming over her activities during those twelve months. He was pretty sure River knew, had probably picked it out of his wife's brain at some point or other, but he wasn't going to ask. Not until Freya herself was ready to tell him. Which, he had to admit, could very likely be never. "I see."

She fixed him with her hazel eyes. "Do you?"

He shrugged. "Nope. But then I guess we all have secrets."

"Mal, I want to tell you, but I'm afraid you might not love me any more."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

He smiled, his own blue gaze soft and full of love. "_Bao bei_, if you never tell me, that's okay. I'll admit to a certain amount of curiousness, but that's your decision to make. And I'll never stop loving you. No matter what." Reaching across he ran a finger down her cheek. "But I conjure it makes an appearance now and again in your dreams."

"Once in a while," she agreed ruefully. "I wish I could control them better."

"Simon'd say we need them to be a little bit wild, to get rid of the tensions of the day."

She chuckled, and Mal felt a fraction of the tension relax out of her. "I don't think he'd put it quite like that."

"Maybe not. I've a notion there'd be a few more ten credit words in there, but that'd be the gist. But that's all they are, Frey. Just dreams."

"But they're so real," she whispered.

For a moment he could hear the gunfire, the rumbling of the heavy artillery, smell the dust and blood, but he pushed it away to lie with memories of dead friends. "The nature of dreams, Frey. But knowing the difference between them and reality is what makes us human."

"I know. In here." She tapped her temple.

"But in here it's different, right?" He laid his hand on her breast, above her heart.

"Right."

"And that makes you want to get physical."

"Yes."

"Then that's fine. You do that. In fact, I'll help." He stood up. "Come on."

She looked confused. "What? Where?""

"Spar with me."

"No."

He held out a hand. "Come on. I promise to be gentle."

"It's not you I'm worried about." She let him lift her to her feet. "The way I'm feeling … I don't want to hurt you."

"Then don't."

She dropped her eyes, and when she finally looked up at him there was an odd expression on her face. "I might not be able to stop myself."

"Of course you can. You're my _xin gan_." He said it simply, honesty radiating off him.

Freya couldn't help it. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "Mal."

He smiled, holding her close, breathing deeply of the scent of warm skin, perspiration, and Freya. "Better," he whispered into her ear. "And you won't hurt me. Mainly because I don't think you want to be explaining to the rest of the crew how I got a black eye and a coupla broken ribs."

"That could be awkward, yes."

"So we'll take it easy." Pushing her gently away, he stripped off his shirt, dropping it on the bench, and picking up the roll of tape. He picked at the end, then wrapped a fair length around his knuckles and wrists, even as he felt her gaze on him. As he said, he wasn't psychic, but he knew his wife. She was checking out every inch of his skin, from the nape of his neck down to his waist, counting the scars, knowing each one intimately. That, and admiring the curve of his back.

She chuckled again, and he knew she'd read him. "You think you're that pretty?" she asked.

"Frey, honey, I'm beautiful." He grinned as he turned back to her. "Now, you ready?"

"As always."

They circled each other, feinting first one way then the other, until Mal stepped forward and jabbed at his wife's shoulder. She slid away from the blow, ducking beneath it, her hand reaching out and pushing hard at his chest, palm first.

He staggered backwards but recovered quickly. "Like that, is it?" he asked, smiling.

"You wanted to spar," she pointed out, not even breathing hard.

"That I did."

"You're holding back."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

"Huh." He moved around to his left, his wife following. "Ready?"

Freya shook out her hands. "Whenever you are, _zhang fu._ Whenever you are."

He grinned, falling naturally into the combative position that had served him so well in the past through a hundred bar brawls, some of which he'd won. This time, though, he wasn't actually going to be fighting dirty.

Except apparently Freya wasn't of the same mind. She stepped forward and he retreated half a pace, but at the same time she somehow managed to hook her leg around his, and his own momentum carried him to the deck, jarring his back.

A look of pain must have crossed his face, because she immediately dropped her hands and went down on her knees next to him. "Mal? Are you okay?"

For a moment he just lay there, sucking air back into lungs that had momentarily been forcefully emptied, then he grabbed her by the arms, rolling over until she was underneath him. "This what you mean by playing fair?" he asked, his hair flopping over his forehead as he gazed down at her.

"Did I mention fair?" She bucked her hips slightly, but he was too heavy for her to push off, at least from this angle.

"No, come to mention it, you didn't. But then again, neither did I." He dropped down and pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth opened in surprise, and he slipped his tongue inside.

When he let her up for air, her face was flushed. "Let me go."

He grinned. "Depends what you're planning on doing if I do."

In response she tilted her head and bit him on the chest, just hard enough to feel it but not hard enough to draw blood. "Mal, let me go," she whispered, licking the same spot.

He felt his breath hitch. "That ain't fighting fair either."

She pushed up with her hips again, but this time there was a smile playing around her eyes. "I don't think you mind," she said, grinding a little.

"You think?" He was surprised he could keep his voice on such an even keel.

"Yes."

He laughed. "Frey, honey, I've been hard for you ever since I saw you hitting that punching bag."

She licked her lips, just a flick of the tongue. "Is that the case?"

"It surely is. And I'm thinking there are other ways to work off that little problem of yours." He dipped his head and nuzzled beneath her jaw.

"I'm not the only one with a little problem," she murmured, her eyes closing.

"Not so little," he said, grinning against her skin.

"What about the rest of the crew?" she managed to say as he suckled gently where her neck joined her shoulder.

"Ain't inviting them."

"We're not exactly … _woh de mah_ … private here."

He lifted his head enough to look into her eyes, his own hooded with desire. "_Ai ren_, one of these days you're gonna believe me when I say this is my boat. I do what I like. Where I like."

"Who you like?"

He kissed her lips again, this time tenderly. "Love, Frey. Who I love."

"Let me go," she said again, this time with more urgency. _Mal._

He released her hands, and felt them on his skin, pulling him down to her, blending their bodies together even as her mind filled him with heat. He smiled, feeling complete again.


	3. Flying

There was something about it. The way it seemed to go on forever, unchanging and inviolate.

She shook her head, frowning slightly. Hyperbole. Using two words where one would do. Redundancy. Using two words that meant the same. Did that mean they cancelled each other out? Was space collapsing around her, and she would wink out of existence, at the same time as expanding back to infinity in an unending oscillation? Or –

"Gorramit!"

River looked around at Hank, standing in the doorway, his hands on his hips, his untidy brown hair lifted indignantly. She was surprised how well it matched the expression on his face.

"Hello," she said, smiling at him.

"No." He raised a hand, shaking a finger at her. "No. You don't go saying hello. Not when we've talked about this."

"Talked about what?" She widened her eyes.

"You know exactly." His thumb jerked. "Out."

"Ah." She slid from the pilot's chair and shimmied into the other.

"Better." Sitting down on his rightful throne, Hank scanned the board automatically, reaching out to correct a warning light. But she was quicker, her hand almost a blur. "Dammit, River!"

She was immediately contrite. "Sorry."

"'Cept you aren't, are you, else you wouldn't do it."

She stared down at her bare feet, lifting them up to perch on the edge of the seat, as if trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. "Sorry," she said again, her voice even more so.

He felt like a heel. "Look, River, it's what I do." She still wasn't looking at him, her face hidden behind her curtain of hair. He went on, "I can't shoot to save my life, not like you and Jayne, or anyone else on this ship, pretty much. And my stitching's so bad I'm not gonna threaten Simon. As for the engine room ..." He paused. "Well, maybe I can hold my own there, but nowhere near Kaylee's skills. But you and Frey, you're always up here, wanting to fly."

"We like it," she pointed out, flexing her toes to a perfect ballet point before lifting her head to gaze at him. "And you're getting better with a gun."

"Only thanks to Frey."

"But better."

"Okay, I'll give you that. But I ain't even Captain, so unless you consider me just Zoe's plaything – and I'm not going to say that's not a pleasant thought, so you can close your mouth right now – then all I am is a pilot. A damn good one, too. But that's me. What I do. Pilot Hank."

"Not all."

"Okay, we can add failed writer. Woop de doo." He hadn't meant to let bitterness taint his words, but there was a flavour nonetheless. His skin pinked. "Sorry. Didn't mean that to come out the way it did."

"Not all," River repeated. "You are husband. Father. Friend. Family." She shrugged. "And pilot," she added grudgingly.

"Then why're you always trying to do what Mal occasionally pays me for?"

"Mal is captain. And he distributes evenly." There was the fastest of twitches to her lips. "Besides, he sits up here."

"Like you said, he's captain. He doesn't take any notice when I tell him to leave."

"Are you telling me to go?" She tried the puppy-dog eyes with just a hint of Bethie's patented lip tremble, then wondered if she hadn't gone too far.

Hank, however, seemed to take it at face value. "Aw, River ..."

"Then I'm not being ordered off the bridge?" she asked hopefully.

"_Diyu_ ..." He shook his head. "Course not, River. Not when you like it so much. Just ... let me do _my_ job, okay?"

"Okay." She turned back to the stars, a small smile on her face only the dinosaurs were privy to.

"So what is it about that out there you like so much, anyway?" Hank asked, apparently wanting to make conversation to fill the gaps between seconds.

"It calms me."

"You having a bad day?"

Where once the crew would have kept out of her way if she was, indeed, having a _bad day_, now they were much more solicitous. "No. But Jayne has toothache, and won't go and see Simon."

"Oh, that why he was scowling so much at breakfast?"

She nodded. "Yes. I offered to remove the offending dental protuberance, but he refused."

"I think most would, honey. No offence."

"None taken. But he's all sharp and pointy at the moment."

"As opposed to being a sugar bear?"

"Peppermint puppy," River corrected, her grin warm and infectious.

Hank laughed. "You know, I don't think I'm gonna call him that. Least, not when Zoe's not around."

"Good idea." River sighed. "So I'm waiting until this evening."

"What's this evening?"

"Bed."

"You mean ..."

"I shall withhold sexual favours until he gets the tooth seen to."

"Right." Hank shifted in his seat slightly.

"It will be difficult, because I have a high libido, but I shall be able to manage for a night. Possibly two."

"River ..."

She grinned again. "Sorry. But he has to see Simon."

"So you're up here to get away?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't mind."

"Thank you."

Hank relaxed a little. "You know, you say the stars comfort you. They don't exactly do the same for your bro."

"Simon is getting better. One day he will embrace it as I do. As Mal does."

"Yeah, our captain surely loves the Black, doesn't he?" Something glowed in Hank's mind. "You know, I've been figuring. We know your Pa wasn't your Pa, but have you ever considered who was?"

"On occasion." She knew what he was going to say, but wanted to hear him say it.

"And it occurred to me that there's just an outside chance Mal might've been the donor. Being a potential and all." He grinned. "You never know."

"Don't you go putting ideas into her head," the man himself said from behind them,

Hank's blush deepened, but by sheer force of will he didn't spin his seat around. "Oh, hey, Mal." He stared at one of the brilliant points of light outside, his gaze fixed.

"Hank."

"You been there long?"

"Long enough."

"Ah."

River smiled at the two men. "Hank was just making mischief."

"I conjure I was aware of that," Mal said, before adding, "Still say you shouldn't be thinking on those lines."

"They were already in residence," she admitted. "But I checked. There is only a 0.769434 convergence of our DNA."

"And what would that mean?" he asked, curious in spite of himself.

"About average. We share a sexual coupling some hundred generations back, but nothing more." She sighed. "Jayne's has more commonality with mine."

"That's slightly disturbing."

"Not enough, though. And everyone shares their common ancestor somewhen."

His lips tilted. "Somewhen, huh?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "So you're not my father."

"Have to say, I'm kinda sorry about that, _xiao nu_."

"As am I. Lost children must come home."

"You still lost?" His eyebrows showed his surprise.

"No. I am grounded. My feet are in the earth, toes grasping tree roots, even as my head is in the clouds."

"The stars, more like," Hank groused, but only quietly.

"Besides, I have my Jayne, my rock. And you."

"If he's your rock – although I have to say it's an appropriate description sometimes – I hate to think what you'd be calling me."

"_Jia yan_."

He smiled. "So what lost children are you thinking on? Less Zoe's managed to lose track of Ben again."

River didn't speak for a long moment, just stared over Mal's left shoulder until he wanted to fidget. Then she shrugged delicately, returning her eyes to his. "General, I think."

"It becomes more than that, you let me know, _dong mah_? Can't be having kids wandering the 'verse on their own."

"Yes, Captain." She saluted, quite an impressive feat since she was still sitting in the same position.

"That's all very well, but –"

A voice interrupted him from somewhere, slipping through ventilation ducts and disturbing access panels. "Ben! Ben, you come here right now!"

River grinned.

Hank, on the other hand, sighed deeply. "Zoe," he supplied.

"I kinda figured that," Mal said. "Seeing as I knew her a while before you did."

"Bathtime," River put in. "Ben does not want a bath."

"He needs it." Mal smiled. "Seeing as he was painting with the other kids most of the afternoon, and he got more on him than on the paper."

"Good job he wants to follow his dad and be a pilot, then," Hank responded, standing up. "And I'd better go help my wife find my son and heir."

"Heir to what, exactly?" Mal teased.

"My extensive literature collection." Hank drew himself up as tall as he could, his untidy hair giving him an extra inch. "It's going to be worth millions one day." He stalked off the bridge.

"Don't go holding your breath," Mal commented, taking just a touch of perverse delight as his pilot accidentally caught his foot on the lip of the door and nearly pitched headfirst down the steps. He caught himself in time, and carried on as if nothing untoward had happened.

"You shouldn't," River whispered.

"He didn't come to any harm." Mal sat down in the vacated seat, its warmth somewhat disconcerting. "He gonna find Ben?"

"Eventually. He's hiding in my garden."

"He eating the strawberries?"

"Not ripe yet. But he is digging."

"And getting dirtier by the second, I'll be bound."

"Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb."

"One of Frey's sayings?"

"Yes." Suddenly she sat up. "Oh."

"What is it?" Mal quickly checked the control panel in front of him, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. "Albatross?"

"Jayne. He's sneaked into the infirmary for a painkiller, and Simon's caught him."

"There gonna be blood? Entrails?"

"I hope not." She was on her feet in a flash, off the bridge even quicker.

"If there is, you can clean it up," he called after her, but if she heard she didn't reply.

He smiled and turned back to the stars, tapping the buffer panel warning light, just out of habit, to see if it would go out. It didn't, but then neither was it important in the grand scheme of things. No matter what fell off his ship, or didn't, the stars remained the same. Somehow he found that thought ... calming.


	4. Adventuring

With children on board ranging from just a few months to nearly seven, the crew took it in turns to watch them, particularly when they were planetside and the adults had things they needed to do. On the move between jobs there wasn't quite the same need, and Freya always took up a couple of hours in the morning with lessons, before letting the kids loose to run quietly amuck.

"I hate it when you can't hear anything," Hank had said on more than one occasion. "I always think they're planning something."

"They probably are," Zoe agreed. "I wouldn't be surprised if Bethie doesn't want to take over the ship and run it her way."

"Hell, can't be any worse'n Mal," Hank had joked, then suddenly found himself very busy making course corrections, which had nothing to do with his captain appearing in the bridge doorway and glaring at him.

Right now, though, Freya was in bed during what passed for daylight hours on board the Firefly. Unfortunately Mal himself couldn't take advantage of this fact as she was getting over a nasty and unexpected bout of food poisoning.

"I told you not to eat anything," the young doctor said, tutting in his worst bedside manner.

"It was only fruit," Freya insisted, her face as pale as the sheets. "I've had it before." She gulped noisily, just the thought of food threatening to make her throw up again.

"But not here. And don't expect any sympathy." Simon shook his head. "You didn't want to get innoc'd, so I consider all of this your own fault."

"It was clean!"

"You have no idea what they washed it in." He sighed heavily. "If I didn't know better I'd think you just wanted to keep me busy."

"Found me out," she said, barely able to give a smile before leaning over the bucket Mal held for her.

He stroked her back until she'd finished, then wiped her mouth and clammy cheeks with a damp cloth. "There you go," he said gently.

"Thanks." She flopped gingerly back onto the pillow.

Simon packed up his little bag. "Lots of rest, fluids, and … Frey, actually listen to me next time, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, her eyes already beginning to close.

Outside in the corridor Mal stopped Simon with a hand on his arm. "She's gonna be okay, isn't she?"

"Threatening me with the airlock again?" Simon asked, amused.

"Not done that in a while. But if it helps you give a straight answer …"

"She'll be fine." He paused for a moment. "I'll admit, I was worried at first, and perhaps someone without her healing capabilities might have found it harder to deal with it, but she's rallying already. This particular strain … well, I'd have anyone else in the infirmary hooked up to a drip before you could blink. As it is, all she needs is rest. The shot I gave her will stop the vomiting, and help her sleep."

"Yeah, saw that."

"Just give her a little space and she'll be back on her feet in a few days."

"'Kay, doc. And thanks."

He'd tried. It was okay during the rest of the afternoon, but as soon as he attempted to put Jesse down for the night he realised his nearly four-year old little daughter was not going to play ball. She was as wide awake as Frey was sleeping, and showing no sign of wanting to rest. Even a story and a glass of water wasn't helping.

"Just put your head down, okay?" he asked, trying to keep the wheedling out of his voice. "Put your head down and close your eyes. It's been a long day, and you'll soon be dreamin'."

"Not sleepy," the youngest Reynolds said, hugging one of her toys, a stuffed giraffe whose head had always hung at an odd angle.

"Try."

"Where's Mama?"

"She's asleep. And we don't want to wake her up, do we?"

"Mama?"

"Shh, JJ," he whispered, using his pet name for her. "She's not feeling too well at the moment."

"Didn't kiss me goodnight," Jesse complained, trying to see past him into the main bunk area.

"Can't I give you two? Kinda like one from me and one on account?"

"No." Her little face began to screw up, and he knew from previous experience she was about to cry. Loudly.

"Okay, okay." His eyes ranged about for something to distract her, but nothing leaped at him. Except the picture on the wall River had done a long time ago, of mountains with a monastery sitting high up amongst the snow. "JJ, how about we go on an adventure instead?"

"'Venture?" The impending tears dried immediately.

"Sure." He grabbed the blanket off her bed, tossing it over his shoulder before he lifted her onto his hip. "Oof," he said, making her smile. "Not sure how much longer I'll be able to do this."

"Daddy," she said, laying her head against his neck.

"Yeah, well, maybe a while longer." Picking up a box of her toys, he carried her out of the nursery.

"Mama?" Jesse looked at her mother, lying on her back, the sheet tucked demurely around her neck, snoring slightly. "Can I kiss Mama better?"

"She'd like that," Mal conceded. "But she's better off sleeping right now. Wait 'til she wakes up."

"'Kay."

Mal opened the top hatch, then paused, considering his predicament. Daughter in one hand, toys in the other … he really needed another –

"Sir?" It was Zoe, standing in the top corridor, looking down at him.

"Here," he said, holding the box as high as he could. "Take this."

Zoe went down onto her knees and leaned over, lifting the container easily and set it down on the floor. "Moving out?" she asked.

"We're going on a 'venture," Jesse said firmly.

"A 'venture?" Zoe smiled. "Well, considering how some of those turn out, you'd better not let your daddy get hurt."

"I'll 'tect him."

"You do that."

Climbing the ladder with a practiced one hand, Mal glared at his first mate. "Between you and the rest of this crew, she's gonna grow up thinking all my plans end with me gettin' shot."

"Experience would seem to suggest that, yes, sir."

Mal put Jesse down. "I ain't that bad. Anyway, it's Frey as needs the doctor's services right now."

"Is she okay?"

"Will be. If she can get enough sleep."

"Ah. Is that why …" She nodded down towards the little girl, bending over the toy box.

"Yeah. I figure if I can tire her out, she'll sleep 'til morning."

"Good luck with that."

"I conjure I'm gonna need it."

"If you like she can come in with Hank and me."

"No, that's okay. If it really gets bad, we'll both go sit in one of the passenger bunks until exhaustion takes over."

"Hers or yours?" Zoe said, heading towards the bridge and the late watch.

He was about to make a funny, scathing and probably very apt comment when he felt a tug on his pants leg.

"Daddy? 'Venture?"

He looked down into his daughter's face, not for the first time fascinated by her resemblance to her mother. "Oh. Right." Taking her hand, he picked up the box and headed towards the cargo bay.

Jesse hung back a moment, her eyes on their bunk. "Mama be okay?" she asked, worrying her lip.

Mal smiled at her. "She's going to be fine, JJ. She's just got a bit of a tummy bug, and she's a little wary of giving it to you."

Jesse screwed her face up. "Yuck."

He laughed. "Have to agree with you there."

Jesse grinned. "Good daddy."

He wondered briefly whether she was glad Frey was going to be okay, or if she was praising him for agreeing with her, and decided to take it as a compliment. "Thanks, JJ."

She bestowed another of her wide smiles on him, and it caught in his chest. The hair, the eyes … one day he was determined to ask Alex if he had any pictures of his sister as a young girl, just to see if what he suspected was true.

They entered the bay, walking slowly down the stairs, Mal adjusting his gait to that of his daughter. Finally they stood on the deck, facing the crates they were to deliver in three days time to their owner on Paquin.

"Where are we, Daddy?" Jesse asked, her eyes huge.

"Well, technically we're still on board Serenity, but I guess you don't mean that. You're talkin' about our adventure, ain't you?" When she nodded, the one where he was sometimes afraid her head might come clean off her shoulders, he smiled. "Well, then, we're in the Wraiths. Back on Shadow."

"Wraiths?"

"Mountains, JJ. Not far from where I was born, where I grew up. Used to go hiking in 'em during the summer when I was sixteen, seventeen. My Ma'd pack me a few rations, then me, Brad and Lyle would take the magtrain to the foothills, and we'd spend a long weekend just walking, fishing, talking." He looked down at her and smiled. "Good times."

She nodded again, trying to understand what he was talking about, but probably not getting more than half. "Daddy?" she asked expectantly.

"Well, now JJ, I think maybe we need to do a bit of climbing, don't you think?" He reached into the toy box. "Only we gotta be careful, 'cause there are some wild beasts about." He placed the toy dinosaur Zoe had given her on one of the higher crates, and one of her teddies lower down. "'Specially if we're gonna find the hidden treasure."

"Treasure?" If anything, her eyes grew wider.

"Yep." He put his hand into his pocket and withdrew a single coin. "Treasure."

"Oooh."

He flicked it up with his thumb, watching it twist in the air so the light caught the edges. The coin fell back onto his palm and he tossed it on top of a crate. "We gotta find it, JJ. Might be all we've got to feed us next month."

She giggled, then went to grab Ethan's weights bench, pulling it across the floor, ready to use it like a ladder so she could clamber up.

Mal was impressed. Must be a hell of a lot more Frey in there than he thought. "Hang on a sec, though." He waited until he was sure she wasn't going to go climbing unsupervised, then crossed the bay to the other stack of crates, where the shape and size had created a natural hollow. Putting the box of toys down, he spread out the blanket he'd brought, just about filling the small area.

"Daddy?"

"This here's Shangri-La," he explained.

"Shangla?"

"Shangri-La. Means 'paradise' or some such. A place where you're safe, secure. Home."

"Like S'renity."

"Yeah." He walked back to her, lifting her easily onto the bench. "First we fight off the monsters, then we find the treasure, and at last make our way to paradise."

"'Kay, Daddy."

A thought occurred to him. "Only ... JJ, this kinda thing, clamberin' about up here ... you can only do this when I'm watching, _dong mah_? 'Cause it's not safe otherwise."

"Monsters."

"I was thinking more about you falling and hurting yourself, then your Ma getting angry with me and making me sleep on the couch for the foreseeable, but monsters works too." He put his fingers under her chin, his blue eyes gazing into her brown orbs. "So only when I know what you're doing, and can catch you, okay?"

"'Kay, Daddy."

"That's my good girl." Eschewing his son's bench in case it collapsed under him, he jumped up onto the crate, holding out his hand. "Come on, then."

She grinned and followed.

They gave the dinosaur a wide berth, seeing as it appeared to be eating something small and squeaky, at least according to Jesse. The teddy bear was hibernating, so they passed him easily enough, although Mal wondered if he shouldn't praise the virtues of sleeping the winter away, or at least the night.

Then Jesse yelped in delight, snatching up the coin and waving it in the air. "Treasure!" she announced.

"Surely is." Mal smiled. "Guess you'd better keep it 'til we're some place you can spend it."

She smacked her lips. "Ice cream."

"Yeah, you and River both."

Jesse searched her pyjamas for a pocket, but in the end held out the coin. "Daddy."

"You want me to look after it for you?"

She nodded. "'S."

"Okay. But you trust me not to fritter it away on useless things like fuel?"

"You're my Daddy."

"I reckon I am." He slipped the money into the breast pocket of his shirt, patting it. "All safe."

"Safe," she echoed. "C'm on."

She started down, and he had to hurry to keep up, ready to stop her if she even looked like she might slip, but her feet were sure, and in less than a minute they were on the bay floor.

Jayne, on the way back to the shuttle with a post-dinner snack, leaned on the railings. "What'cha doing?" he asked, munching a protein stick.

"'Venture," Jesse told him, grinning up. "Going to find Shang ... Shang ..." She couldn't remember.

"Shangri-La?" Jayne suggested.

She beamed at him. "S'right, Uncle Jayne."

Mal looked up at his ex-mercenary and raised an eyebrow in query.

"One of them books River got me reading," the big man explained, dropping his voice as if afraid others might hear and make fun of him. "All waterfalls and flowers, and livin' forever."

"Pretty," Jesse sighed.

"Pretty enough," Jayne agreed. "'Part from the abominable snowman!" He vaulted down the stairs in two huge leaps, growling, his back bowed, arms hanging to his knees.

"Daddy!" Jesse shrieked delightedly, trying to hide behind him, but Jayne grabbed her around the waist, lifting her high.

"Mine!" he crowed, and proceeded to pretend to eat her, making her gasp with laughter as his teeth worried at her belly.

"I was tryin' to tire her out so she'd sleep," Mal said gently, barely a hint of reproach in his tone. "Instead of making her even more awake."

Jayne hung the giggling girl over his shoulder. "Frey?" he asked.

"Sleeping. Least, I hope so, after all this noise."

Jayne didn't look abashed. "Ain't gonna knock her down for long."

"I know." Mal took his daughter and set her on his hip. "'Cept some little girls are supposed to be sleeping too."

She kissed his cheek, then wriggled to be put down. He sighed and did as she wanted.

Immediately she went to her box of toys, tipping them all out onto the blanket.

Jayne chuckled. "Can't see you getting to bed any time soon."

"Me neither."

"River'n'me could take the squirt in with us, if'n you'd like."

Mal wondered why he was still surprised at the sentimental streak Jayne occasionally showed, but shook his head. "No. We'll wait a while longer. She must be gettin' tired."

"Right," Jayne said, clapping his hand on the other man's shoulder. "You keep tellin' yourself that." He grinned and ambled up the stairs, pausing at the top only to say, "'Night, squirt."

"'Night, Uncle Jayne," Jesse said, industriously sorting out her teddies according to size.

Jayne laughed quietly and disappeared into the shuttle, no doubt to regale River with tales of children who wouldn't sleep.

Mal lowered himself carefully to the blanket and rested against a crate, watching his daughter. His little girl. When he looked at her, he wondered how he could ever have been so lucky. First her mother, then her brother, then … his JJ. A man shouldn't have favourites amongst his children, and he loved both Ethan and Jesse to distraction, but somehow, having a little girl that he could protect ...

Maybe it was his make-believe, saying the crates were The Wraiths, but he wished his own mother could see his family. There was something in Jesse, maybe the chin, that reminded him so strongly of his Ma it made his eyes sting sometimes. And she'd be proud to know they were Reynolds, carrying on the family name, making 'em cookies and lemonade before taking them into the warmth of her arms.

Jesse started to hum, just quietly, under her breath, just like Frey did when she was concentrating on something.

He smiled. Yes, the chin might be his Ma's, but the rest was all his wife. He made a mental note to send that wave to Alex. Or better yet, write to Dillon Malfrey. He'd be sure to know where his brother-in-law was, and he'd pass on a message without the possibility of someone who shouldn't be listening taking note of it. Not that he'd tell Frey, though. She'd get mad at him for being ... well, more sentimental than Jayne. She'd tell him she wasn't that child anymore, that she was Freya Reynolds, and he'd agree with her. But it wasn't going to stop him finding out for sure.

He yawned suddenly. Maybe Jesse wasn't sleepy, but he was.

"JJ," he said softly, "I'm just gonna rest my eyes. You're lookout, so if you see any more of those abominable snowmen, you let me know."

"'Kay, Daddy."

He smiled and let his eyelids fall. After only a moment or two, he heard her humming turn to singing, just quietly, something he recognised as a lullaby he'd used to get his tiny baby girl to sleep a long time ago, something he remembered his own Ma singing to him a lot further back. Jesse didn't know the words, but she was making the right sounds, and as Mal listened he could feel sleep overtaking him.

Then, just as he was about to tip over into dreams, he felt someone snuggle up close to him.

Forcing his eyes open, he realised Jesse had snuck under his arm and was leaning against him, her giraffe clutched tightly to her chest.

As he tried to keep sleep at bay he could hear her breathing even out, and it took only a minute before she was away with the fairies herself.

He smiled and settled back. He'd slept in worse places, and in company he really didn't want to be thinking about, so a night in the cargo bay wasn't going to kill him. And in the morning Frey would be feeling better, and he'd make her smile with the story.

Besides, he conjured as he felt himself drift away, he was with his JJ, on their 'venture, and nothing was going to interrupt that, nothing in the whole, wide 'verse.


	5. Writing

Freya slid the portable Cortex link back into the cupboard and closed the door firmly.

"That bad?" Simon asked, settling himself at the old kitchen table, spreading his equipment out in front of him. Pens, paper, envelopes ... all laid out neatly in their proper places. For all the trouble he was taking, they could be scalpels, forceps and retractors ready to remove the inevitable bullet.

Freya sighed and dropped back into her just vacated chair. "Some days it's hard work."

"Well, you are still recovering from that food poisoning."

She pointed her finger at him. "Don't you dare say I told you so."

"Not if my life depended on it."

She grinned. "Anyway, it isn't that. It's the fact that all the kids are at different stages, it's so hard to come up with a lesson plan that doesn't either bore some or scare others. I may have to call on someone to help."

River, standing at the stove stirring a pot, looked up expectantly. "Help?" she asked, her spoon stilled.

"_Mei-mei_, I don't know if that's a good idea," Simon said.

"But I enjoy it," the young psychic said.

"I know, but …" Memories of the complaints that had filled Serenity the last time River had taken over teaching duties flowed across his mind. And that was just from the adults.

She wrinkled her nose at him, obviously having read him with ease. "I'd follow Frey's lesson plans. It would be fun." She turned her gaze on the other woman. "Please?"

"Well, I didn't know whether to ask," Freya said slowly. "But if you'd like to …"

River grinned widely. "Done."

"It's not that I don't enjoy it. I mean, it's reminded me of so much I thought I'd forgotten when they …" Simon could see her physically skirting away from what had happened to her when she was young, then she gathered herself. "But if you could take the younger children and I'll teach Bethie, Ethan and Ben."

"Oh."

There was so much disappointment in that one sound.

"Or we could alternate," Freya added quickly. "One day each. Just so long as it's fun."

River brightened again immediately. "Oh, it will be."

Simon unscrewed the top of his pen and chuckled. "Just so long as _you_ know what you're letting yourself in for."

The two women exchanged a glance, then River asked, "Who were you talking to?"

"Either. Both."

"I'm not sure I should be insulted or not," Freya said, smiling nevertheless.

"Boob," River commented.

"The story of my life," Simon said, grinning as he prepared to start to write.

"Hey, can I have one of those?" Freya asked.

"Sorry?"

"One of your sheets. I wanted to drop Alex a letter, since Mal is convinced it isn't safe to wave at the moment, only I've run out. I'll replace it as soon as we get to Wayborn."

Simon hesitated for a moment, then held one out. "Here. Do you have a pen?"

"That I think I can do." Freya laughed and got slowly to her feet as if her back ached. "Although I think I might take a nap before I attempt the arduous task of asking my brother what he'd like for his birthday."

"Birthday?" Simon started guiltily.

"Mmn. Don't worry, it's not for ages yet. Three weeks." She sighed. "Not that I'll get a response back in time, so he'll probably have to make do with something I can pick up somewhere, but it's the thought that counts."

"I'm sure he'll enjoy anything you buy him," Simon said stoutly.

Freya smiled. "And there speaks the loyal brother." She wandered off towards her bunk. "Although the level of the places we've been lately, I somehow doubt he'll look kindly on a post-holer."

"Oops," River said, carefully putting the lid on the pot.

"I'd forgotten," Simon admitted, whispering in case Freya could hear.

"I hadn't. I've got her something pretty."

"Don't be so smug."

"Why not?"

Simon couldn't think of a really good put down, so instead said, "Twins. Same birthday." He shot his sister a sharp glance. "I don't suppose Mal's forgotten."

"Of course not. He has the bracelet charm ready, and a new pack of incense sticks – which shows true love if you think about it – as well as a pair of very flimsy undergarments in red lace with little black –"

"River."

She smiled sweetly at him before getting out a loaf of bread and the carving knife.

Simon flinched just a little as the light was split along the sharp blade, then deliberately went back to his letter. "There's plenty of time," he said, picking up the pen again. "I'm sure I can find something suitable."

"Something she'd like, not something she needs," River advised, slicing carefully.

"Of course." _Dear Mother …_

Voices drifted up the stairs, coming closer along the corridor.

"A long weekend."

"We can ask."

"Take the shuttle, find somewhere secluded, maybe leave Ben with Bethie …"

"You don't want your son to come with us?"

"Honestly? No. I don't think I could let myself go if he was watching. Oh, hi, doc." Hank stepped down into the kitchen, Zoe at his back. "Riv, how long 'til lunch?"

"Twelve minutes and thirty-three seconds. Approximately."

"Hear that, honey? We've got twelve minutes and thirteen seconds to go and find something to do." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Twenty-seven seconds," River corrected.

"Twelve minutes and twenty-seven seconds all to ourselves. Imagine what we could do with that."

"Twenty-one."

Zoe shook her head. "It could be three hours, twelve minutes and twenty-one –"

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen seconds, and it wouldn't matter. We're supposed to be working out what supplies we need from Wayborn."

"I'd rather fly the ship."

"It's Mal's watch. And we're going to check the linen cupboard."

Hank perked up. "It's … um … warm and cosy in there, isn't it?"

Simon groaned. Just the thought of what the pilot was suggesting they get up to was making him feel nauseous.

"Two weeks ago last Thursday," River sang, spreading something that purported to be butter on the sliced bread.

"What?" Hank turned to look at her, but she just carried on. "Simon? Any idea what your sis is talking about?"

If there was a way to medically stop someone blushing Simon thought he could make a fortune. As it was he kept his head down and waited for the tide to turn. "No."

Zoe chuckled lightly. "River, do you have the list of foodstuffs we need?"

River nodded, determined to make the butter even and equal. "On the table."

"This?" Hank lifted a mug from the old wood and withdrew a folded sheet of paper it had been holding down.

"Two lists. What is needed, and what is wanted."

He opened it up and perused it. "We're out of that _again_?"

River shrugged. "It goes."

"But it's so strong. The amount we get through, I'd be thinking someone on this boat was pregnant if I was Mal."

"If that's the case we can sell tickets."

"What?"

River put down the butter knife. "My Jayne, in the middle of the night. He dips protein sticks into it. He says it gives him the energy to come back to our shuttle and sex me."

"River," Simon complained. "What did we say about too much information?"

"That it was something to be cultivated?"

"Almost the exact opposite."

The young woman wasn't contrite in the slightest. "Ah. I'll endeavour to remember."

Hank, on the other hand, was grinning. "I might have to try some of that stuff myself."

"If you do, you'll be sleeping alone," Zoe said. "Come on. We need to check how many sheets are left after Fiddler got into them." She strode towards the stern of the Firefly and the store cupboards.

"Coming, dear." Hank trotted after her.

"Finally," Simon murmured. _Dear Mother …_

"Riv?" Jayne stomped heavily into the kitchen, Caleb on his hip. "You got a while?"

"Lunch is cooking," she admitted.

"Good. Mal wants me to check the ammo 'fore we land, and I don't wanna do that with little fingers about." He glanced at his son who was chewing on the tail of his metal horse. "You know what happened last time."

River nodded. "It fit," she explained succinctly.

"Yeah, but I don't think Mal's gonna take too kindly to reaching for a refill for his gun and finding snot all over it."

"Perhaps not." She smiled at her son, who grinned back, showing a handful of white nubs in pink gums. "He can stay here."

"Great." Jayne set the little boy on the floor before leaning over and planting a kiss on his wife's lips. "Love ya," he whispered.

She preened. "I know."

"And I've put those 'luvial rounds on the list. You never know, he might say yes this time." Jayne headed back the way he'd come. "'Though I wouldn't try holding my breath."

"I never do," River agreed.

Simon waited for a moment, but nobody seemed inclined to interrupt again.

_Dear Mother. I hope you are well. We are all well. We ... _

His pen trailed off, leaving a thin black line across the page.

"Damn," he whispered, trying to clean it before it set, and only making more of a mess.

"Should do it in rough first," River advised, getting out the plates as Caleb bounced his toy horse on the floor and laughing at the clattering it made.

"I've never had a problem before," Simon snapped. "Maybe it's all the noise going on."

"Better in rough." She added, ignoring his sudden ill-temper, "My Jayne does it."

"Please do not compare me to your husband," Simon complained, screwing up the page and tossing it across the kitchen.

A small brown blur whizzed into the room, grabbed the wadded up paper and ran off with it, followed by a silver grey flash. They headed for the bridge.

"Out of sight, out of mind." River lifted the lid on the saucepan and sniffed.

Simon sighed heavily and pulled another sheet towards him. He only had three left of the heavy vellum pages, and he made a mental note to buy some more at Wayborn Skyplex when they stopped for supplies and postal deliveries. If he ever managed to finish it. Or start it, for that matter.

"Give her my love," River added, sprinkling a pinch of oregano to what was essentially protein and potato soup. Apart from the vegetables she grew, they were down to the bottom of the stores, but she enjoyed making it taste of more than cardboard. Mal had promised they could have some real meat, but until then this would do. It would still fill the crew's bellies and keep them going.

Simon put pen to paper again, writing _Dear Mother_ (again) then stopped. "I ... don't know what to say," he admitted. "I can't mention you by name, nor the children, or the ship ... or anything."

"Then just say _love Simon_," she suggested, teasing him.

"Gorramit!" Mal's yell echoed from the bridge. "Ethan, Bethie – you come and get your pets afore I decide to have 'em served up for supper!"

Simon glanced at his sister for clarification.

"Two small animals making a snowstorm." She nodded towards the paper.

It took a moment to interpret, then Simon couldn't help but smile, mentally entertaining himself with the image of a dog and a cat tearing his discarded letter to shreds and covering Mal with little white flecks.

Still, it didn't resolve his dilemma. "I _have_ to say something, _mei-mei_."

"You don't have to talk about us at all," his sister said, putting the pan to the back of the stove to cool slightly before she dished up. "Tell her how _you_ feel."

"Me?" He raised his eyebrows.

"She knows we're well. We're always well – we have you to look after us. But she'd like to know you better."

"River, she knows me. She brought me up."

"But not now. She doesn't know you _now_."

He shook his head and turned back to his letter. The two words he'd managed to write stared back at him accusingly.

"Honey, have you seen ..." Kaylee stepped down into the kitchen. "Oh, there it is." She crossed to the alcove, pulling a wrench from under the cushion. "Honestly, I ain't got an idea how these manage to migrate, but whenever I want this particular one it's always out here somewhere."

"I don't know," Simon said, then wished he could take the words back, or at least the tone behind them.

Still, Kaylee didn't take offence. "People getting to you?" she asked, stepping up behind him and putting her arms around his shoulders.

"Too many interruptions," River explained.

"Oh, sorry, Simon. I didn't mean –" She went to let go, but he quickly put his hands on hers, stopping her.

"You I don't mind," he said, reaching down and placing a kiss on her fingers, even though they smelled like engine grease.

"Aw, that's nice." She snuggled against his back. "I'd suggest we go to the linen closet, but Zoe and Hank are in there."

River sniggered.

"Counting towels," Simon said firmly.

"Not from what I heard." Kaylee giggled in his ear. "But I ain't got the time. I got to go loosen the k-junction cable, else the Cap's gonna be wondering why we ain't slowing down when we get to Wayborn." She seemed reluctant to leave, though.

"Probably not a good idea to crash, no."

"No." She sighed and stood up, dropping a kiss of her own onto the top of his head. "Later," she promised, and bounced out back toward her domain.

River watched her go then turned the heat right down under the saucepan. "Come along, Caleb," she said, picking up her son and settling him on her hip. "I need to draw you."

He patted her cheek and grinned. "Mama."

Simon exhaled. "Thanks, River."

"No problem." She started for the steps. "And remember … tell her what you feel." Her bare feet made no sound on the metal treads, but suddenly he was alone.

He stared at the page, his mind still whirling with all the interruptions that had stopped him from making a fool of himself on paper … and realised his sister was right. His mother didn't want to know where they'd been, what nefarious deeds they'd been getting up to. All she wanted to know was if they were all safe, healthy and likely to be anywhere she could see them.

He smiled, rolling the pen between his thumb and forefinger, and began again.

_Dear Mother, I miss you. You're often in my thoughts, and as I watch my family I know that you feel the same way …_


End file.
